


Ben Doesn't Feel Well

by Ellie226



Series: The Community [11]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, F/M, M/M, Medical Kink, Multi, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:59:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Ben isn't pleasant when he's not feeling well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ben Doesn't Feel Well

Matt’s POV

“No, Em,” I heard a fretful voice. “Go ‘way!”

I stopped drying the plate in my hands, listening to the dispute in the playroom. Emily’s voice was a soft murmur, the words indecipherable, but Ben’s came through loud and clear.

“I said no! Don’t touch!”

“What’s going on in there?” I asked.

Emily came stomping out, face stormy as she complained, “Ben is bein’ crabby and mean, Daddy. He needs early bed.”

“I do not!” Ben yelled from the playroom. “Daddy! Tell Em’ly to leave me ‘lone!”

That was not the sweetness and light I typically got from Ben, which made me wonder if Emily was right, although I’d admonished her on my way into the playroom, “I think I can decide who needs early bed, Emily.”

“Yeah, Emily,” Ben bratted, sticking out his tongue.

“And you can keep that tongue in your mouth please, sassypants,” I corrected, taking in the picture before me.

Emily had pulled out her town, and it was spread over most of the rug. Ben was in the windowseat, flipping through a picture book, but he didn’t appear to be reading. He was white as a ghost, with circles under his eyes, and he looked thoroughly miserable.

“Hey, peanut,” I said, sitting beside him and reaching to lay my hand on his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” he said, squirming away from my hand. “And ‘m not sassypants, Daddy. Em’ly’s bein’ a bossypants.”

“I am not!”

“Okay, Em,” I gave her a look. “Ben, you look like you feel not so good.”

“‘m fine,” he insisted, glaring at me.

“Alright, peanut, just let me feel,” I said, chasing after him with my hand. “Come on, Ben. Don’t give me a hard time.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, getting up from the bench and nearly falling down. “‘m not sick. ‘m perfec’ly okay, Daddy.”

“I think we’ll take your temperature anyway,” I told him slowly, standing.

He tried to move away from me, but I stalked him, pouncing and swooping him on my hip. Unlike the usual response, giggly squirming, he got angry.

“Put me down!” He insisted, “I’m not sick!”

“Then once we take your temp, you can go back to playing,” I said, dodging his flailing fists. 

Em chortled, “Daddy’s going to take your temperature.”

“Emily, not helpful,” I reprimanded, irritated.

“No! ‘m not sick!”

“Can I help, Daddy? I wanna see,” Emily begged. 

I knew she wasn’t doing it to be mean. Emily loved when “her” Ben was a baby. She’d actually adapted to the nursing, initiating it when Ben was having a rough day, and she pushed for it in other ways. She made up his bottle for me, even if I wasn’t planning on bottle feeding him. She liked to come along when I tucked him in for nap.

Taking his temperature what Em referred to as ‘that way’, making him seem more like a baby as well as the fact that Emily just enjoyed seeing Ben naked, it was inevitable that she be excited. It wasn’t helpful.

“No,” I told her, not looking forward to the argument that looked like it was about to ensure. I had Ben struggling in my arms, and Emily gearing up for an argument.

Deciding to focus on one thing at a time, I put Ben down but kept a very firm grip on his bicep as I turned to look at Emily and tell her, “You do not come upstairs unless I call, Emily Anne. Ben doesn’t need an audience.”

“But I-”

I smiled, offering, “You can either play down here by yourself, or you can have a time out in the naughty corner, if you’d prefer.”

“No, Daddy,” Emily backed up, sitting down with her town. “‘cept it’s not fair ‘cause ‘m a good helper,” she muttered.

I ignored the commentary, picking Ben up again and starting up the stairs, as he argued and complained the whole way.

“Ben, if you’re not sick, then you are being the crabbiest little boy I have ever met,” I commented, dropping him on the bed when we got to the room.

“Am not,” he contradicted, scowling.

I nodded, going to the bathroom and pulling out the basket with the medicine and thermometer. I wiped it off with an alcohol wipe, even though I knew I’d left it clean, and then I went into the bedroom, getting ready for a fight.

Ben’s POV

It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even sick. I was just irritated because I wanted to read by myself. Em’ly was being annoying. She wasn’t my boss. She didn’t get to just tell me what to do.

“Ben,” Daddy rejoined me on the bed, rubbing my back.

I pulled the pillow over my head, “Go ‘way,” I ordered. “You’re mean. You took Em’s side. I’m not crabby. Em was bein’ ‘nnoying, Daddy. You said she’s not my boss.”

“She’s not,” Daddy kept rubbing my back. “And I didn’t take her side. You’re being kind of cranky though, honey, and that’s not like you. Is there a problem?”

“Em’s ‘nnoying me.”

“What was she doing?” Daddy asked patiently.

I wiggled, “Stop rubbing my back. I don’t like that.”

“You don’t?” Daddy asked, stopping. “You usually like it, peanut.”

“Not right now, I don’t. It’s my body, and you can’t rub my back ‘less I say so.”

“Alright,” Daddy replied.

I was waiting for him to get mad, but he didn’t sound upset. Then, I felt him tugging at my jeans, and I rolled away.

“NO!” I ordered. “You said! You said that I don’t gotta let nobody touch! No fair spanking for that!”

“Honey, I’m not going to spank you,” he told me.

“Then why you tryin’ to take my pants off?”

Daddy looked puzzled, “Ben, I told you. We need to get your temp. I’ll be real quick.”

Scurrying off the bed, I backed into the corner and crossed my arms, informing him, “Don’t need to take my pants off to take my temp’ture.”

Matt’s POV

I was starting to think that maybe David hadn’t done this, and I wasn’t sure if Ben had ever been to Sarah, or another littles’ doctor before.

“How did Daddy David take your temperature, peanut?”

Ben’s shoulders were hunched up, body tense, and he informed me, “He didn’t. Didn’t need to be bothered with me when I was sick. I’d have made him sick.”

“Who took care of you?” I asked, horrified. 

I had assumed that David had just used an oral thermometer. Some people did. I had a sneaking suspicion that Frankie would not put up with this. The only reason that Emily did, in spite of her complaints was because there was a tiny part of her that liked it. She’d deny it, but her body’s response said something different.

“Nobody,” Ben said defensively. “Didn’t need it. Don’t need anybody to take care of me. I don’t get sick mostly, and if I do, then I can take care of myself.”

Smiling, I asked, “And do I ever let you take care of yourself, Ben?”

“You’re gonna.”

“Peanut-”

“No! I don’t need your help!”

“Okay, Ben, I understand that you’re upset,” I tried calmly. “But I need to make sure you’re not running a fever. So what I need is for you to slip your jeans and your underpants down, and lay on your tummy. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“A few minutes of what?”

I hadn’t wanted to be explicit because that always made Ben blush, but it seemed like he wasn’t getting my carefully worded explanation.

“Of using the thermometer,” I told him. “Aunt Sarah says this is the best way, if I take it in your bottom.”

“Nu uh.”

“Honey, it won’t hurt,” I held up the thermometer. “See? It’s just a little tiny thing. It might feel a little funny, but I promise it doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t care,” he sassed. “Not gonna.”

I nodded, wondering if he needed something a little less gentle. Sharpening my voice, I said, “Benjamin Andrew, you will listen to Daddy, and right now, that means letting me do that.”

“NO!” Ben stomped his foot for good measure.

It wasn’t typical for my good, sweet, eager to please little boy, but it wasn’t like I was entirely unused to bratty behavior. Striding over to the corner, I took Ben by one arm, turning him to the side, and swatting his thighs a few times.

“Don’t stomp, and don’t tell me no,” I reprimanded. “Now, I’m going to take your temperature, and you’re going to behave yourself for me.”

“No!” he said, sounding more tearful this time.

“Yes,” I softened my voice. “This is going to happen. Let’s get you undressed and get you on your tummy.”

Ben began crying. He didn’t walk to the bed, but he didn’t fight me, and I got him settled, pants and underwear around his knees. 

He was still until I parted his little cheeks, and that’s when the next fight began. He was squirming like crazy, telling me no. Repeatedly.

“Honey,” I tried, keeping an arm in the middle of his back. “I need to. I just need to make sure you don’t have a fever. That’s all. This isn’t a big deal.”

“No! I said no!”

“I understand that you don’t like this,” I told him. “I’m very sorry that you’re unhappy, but I need you to lie still please.”

“NO NO!” Ben bucked, and I finally swatted again.

“Benjamin Andrew, do you want me to call Aunt Sarah over to help me? Because that’s where this is headed,” I warned.

He was still crying, but he stopped moving, allowing me to slide the thermometer inside of him. That made him whine.

“Hurts.”

“Does it?” I asked patiently. I’d had this discussion with Sarah, and she insisted that this didn’t hurt. 

Actually, what she’d said was that if I didn’t stop second guessing what she knew as a medical practitioner, she was going to demonstrate how much it didn’t. Em made the same complaint, occasionally, although she also would tell me she thought she was getting sick at times that I was almost certain that she just wanted me to take her temperature.

“It don’t feel good,” Ben told me.

I nodded, “Hold still, and we’ll get this over with.”

Ben’s POV

I sniffled. Daddy was mean, and I didn’t like this at all. And Emily knew! And she wanted to watch! Everything was awful. 

Twisting to tell him that, I was surprised to find the thermometer ripped away and several hard swats falling on my butt.

“Don’t move,” Daddy ordered. 

Before I could complain or be relieved that this was over, he had spread my cheeks again, pushing the thermometer back inside. I shrieked and kicked the bed a few times, furious. That got the thermometer removed briefly, but it was only so Daddy could smack again.

“Ben, I’m not kidding around,” Daddy lectured. “We can do this all day, and all it’s going to get you a sore butt. And you will get your temperature taken. This is non-negotiable.”

In frustration, I pounded my fist on the bed. I should have done it before he put the thermometer back inside me because he removed it and swatted. 

“DADDY!” 

“Ben, behave and this will be over,” Daddy lectured. “That’s all you need. Just lay still and let me get your temp, and then it’s done. You’d be done already if you would just listen.”

I was sore, and now my butt hurt too, and I settled for sobbing out my frustration and anger into the pillow. It was Daddy’s side of the bed, so I was snotting up his pillow, and that seemed fair.

Matt’s POV

101.8. Not awful, but it wasn’t good. I was going to have to call Sarah, and he wouldn’t be going to daycare tomorrow. 

“Okay, honey,” I patted his back. “You’ve got a fever. We’re going to get you into jammies, and then you can rest a little bit.”

“Don’t need to rest,” he muttered, turning to glare at me, face smeared with tears and snot.

“And we’ll clean your face too, peanut.”

He continued glaring, before rubbing his face against my pillow. I decided to ignore it, opting to go and grab his pajamas from the drawer. After a moment’s indecision, I opted for the dropseat pajamas. He needed the feet, but I wanted the easy access. 

“Come on,” I said, sitting back down on the bed and trying to get his tee-shirt off.

“I can do it myself,” he insisted.

“Alright,” I sat back, handing over the pajamas.

He shoved them back, “I don’t want these ones.”

“That’s not a choice right now,” I told him, keeping my voice level. “I want you in those jammies, right now.”

“No,” he tried.

I nodded, “Ben, your choices right now are putting the jammies on with your bottom not spanked or putting them on after I warm it up for you. What’s it going to be?”

“You already spanked me!”

“Yeah, I swatted because you weren’t listening, and I’ll put you over my knee for a good spanking if you don’t listen now,” I said.

Pouting, Ben pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the ground, kicking his jeans and underpants off as well. With the pajamas pulled up, he zipped himself then looked at me, “Happy?”

“Thrilled,” I replied, stepping into the master bath. I returned with a warm and damp washcloth, wiping his face down as he squirmed and complained.

“I don’t need that,” he insisted, pushing at my hands. “I’m clean.”

I ignored his attempts to shove me away, saying, “Uh huh. You wiped your nose on Daddy’s pillow.”

Hands and face clean, he was ready to be tucked back in, and I considered my options. I thought that the nursery was probably best, but he’d already snotted on these sheets, so maybe it was okay for right now.

“Let’s get you tucked in,” I suggested, waiting to see what he said. Sometimes, if he needed a little space, he slept in the nursery. It was always his choice, and it was one we left available for him because of everything that happened before.

He glared daggers at me, “Don’t wanna be in here. Want to sleep in my bed by myself.”

That worked best, so I picked him up like an infant, carrying him to the nursery. Unsurprisingly, he complained and squirmed, but I ignored it and got him tucked into the crib, glancing around the room. 

Even if Ben didn’t use it much anymore, it was still cozy. Frankie had done a good job helping Emily out, and the nursery looked like Ben’s room.

I decided to remove temptation, lifting the crib bar up and latching it so that he’d have trouble getting out. It wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ll be back up with some water in a minute, peanut,” I said, kissing his forehead.

He didn’t say anything, and I left him to his pout. On my way downstairs, I found Emily. She was seated on the step second from the top, and when I sat beside her, she looked up at me anxiously.

“‘m not upstairs,” she explained, “I’m on the stairs. You didn’t say no to that.”

It was Emily logic, but she seemed so upset that I figured it wasn’t a huge deal. She handed me one of the glass baby bottles, filled with ice water, and she said, “He needs Owlie too, Daddy.”

“He’s okay, baby,” I reassured. “He’s got a fever, but Aunt Sarah will come over and take a look at him. It’s probably just a cold.”

“Flu’s goin’ ‘round at daycare,” she mumbled. “Mikey had it. An’ lots of other kids.”

“Well, then Aunt Sarah’ll come over here and help take care of him. It’s not a big deal,” I soothed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug. 

Emily’s POV

Daddy hugged me for a minute before handing back the bottle and saying, “Why don’t you go and give him that, Em. He’s pretty upset with me at the moment. You can grab Owlie too.”

“I can give it to him?” I asked, excited.

“You can hand him the bottle,” Daddy clarified. “No cradling and feeding him, baby. He’s not in the mood.”

Daddy didn’t know. Ben could be in exactly the mood for cuddling and babying. Daddy always just assumed that he knew what Ben needed, but he was wrong.

“Go on,” Daddy patted my leg. “You take care of your Ben. I’m going to go and get some soup started.”

“Chicken?” I asked, stopping at the top of the steps. “He likes the one with tortellini.”

“Go,” Daddy pointed. “I don’t know. I don’t think we have tortellini, but we do have chicken stock.”

I went back to the nursery, stopping in the doorway. My Ben was curled up on his side, looking thoroughly miserable, and I realized I’d forgotten Owlie. Ducking back out of the nursery, I grabbed the stuffed owl from the big bed, adding a box of tissues to the items I was ferrying back to the nursery before I returned.

“Hi,” I greeted him, walking over to the crib.

Daddy had put the sides up. That was weird. He sometimes put them a little up. Back when Ben first came to live with us, Daddy worried he’d roll out. Even now, if Ben had to take something that made him sleep, the sides went up enough that they would stop Ben. 

Today they were all the way up. Ben would have to really try to get out of the crib, although it was probably possible. I could do it at least.

“Hey,” he croaked at me, grabby hands going toward Owlie.

I handed the stuffed creature over, waiting until Ben had a minute to cuddle it before I gave him the bottle as well. Placing the box of tissues in the built-in shelves, I dragged the rocker over to next to the crib and sat down.

“You okay?” I asked him.

He shrugged, breathing snuffly as he explained, “Daddy smacked me!”

“You got wiggly with the thermometer?” I asked. Daddy got swatty about that. I mostly didn’t do it anymore, except sometimes it felt maybe a little bit good, so there was that. Daddy only spanked for big wiggling though.

He nodded, outraged, “And I don’t ‘ppreciate you wanting to watch, Em’ly Anne. That’s not nice. ‘s’not ‘ppropriate when I don’t feel good.”

That hadn’t been why, but he sounded so upset that I settled for apologizing rather than arguing. 

I offered, ‘You want something else? I could read you a story? Or get you toys or something.”

“Daddy said rest,” Ben informed me, tone aggrieved.

“He just means in bed,” I explained, familiar with Matt’s completely unreasonable rules. “He’ll let you come down to the couch once Aunt Sarah takes a look at you, but ‘til then, it’s bed. He doesn’t get upset about playing in bed, so long as you’re quiet.”

Wrapping his fingers around the bars, Ben looked out at me and said with an aggrieved air, “I hate this stupid crib. ‘s’like being a criminal.”

“Daddy just wants you to be safe,” I offered, rocking a little.

“Take down the bars,” he wheedled softly. “Please, Em? I don’t like ‘em. I’ll stay in the crib.”

Ben’s POV

I’ll stay in the crib mostly. Unless something more interesting comes up, and then I’ll go see that instead. 

Emily looked hesitant as she told me, “Daddy wants you in there.”

“I know, and I’ll stay in here,” he said. “I just want no bars ‘tween us like ‘m an an’mal. Doesn’t he trust me?”

Hands reached out to unhook the crib bar, but bigger hands closed around them, and Daddy’s voice asked very sternly, “Did I tell you to take him out of the crib?”

Emily jumped as though she’d been burned, defending, “I was just taking ‘em down, Daddy. Ben said he’d stay in. He just doesn’t like being caged up.”

“Uh huh,” Daddy replied, sounding skeptical. “And I like knowing exactly where my little boy is when he’s sick, so you can leave those the way I put them, please, Emily Anne. As for you Ben,” he turned his gaze to me. “It’s not nice to manipulate.”

“Not manipulating,” I muttered, surly.

“Sure, little britches,” he agreed amiably. “I’ve got two choices for dinner. Do you want chicken or beef soup?”

“Want pizza,” I demanded.

My stomach was kind of wiggly and rolling, but I liked pizza. And I didn’t want soup. I was sure I’d be ready for pizza when dinner came around. And if I wasn’t, then Daddy would just have to deal.

Matt’s POV

That seemed like an awful idea. There was no way he was up for pizza, not with the way he was looking, and Em wouldn’t want to eat it unless it was homemade. So I had my choice between making not one, but two relatively labor intense meals, or simply putting my foot down. I opted for the latter.

“No,” I stated simply. “Soup. Chicken or beef. Pick or I’ll do it.”

Ben glared at me, and he kicked the wall, arguing, “PIZZA. Cheese.”

“Em, honey, how about you go downstairs and see if Aunt Sarah’s here?” I spared a quick smile for my wife, hoping she’d just do as I asked.

I was relieved to have one who would, even if they had apparently decided they were going to draw straws to determine who would behave and who would slowly drive Daddy insane on any given day. She took off downstairs, after a worried glance at Ben, and I unhooked the side of the crib and sat myself down.

“Ben,” I said patiently, “it’s okay if you can’t pick. I can do it for you. And it’s okay if you need to have a temper tantrum and kick the walls. I can spank your bottom. I want you to understand the consequences of your choices though. Do you understand?”

He looked me for a long minute before viciously kicking the wall again, not saying a word. I sighed, grabbing him and turning him over my knee.

That got him talking, and I heard various allegations of my tyranny and cruelty. Unfortunately for Ben, I was used to the master. A tantruming Em was a force to be reckoned with. Ben just didn’t have the experience.

I unsnapped the back of his pajamas, lowering the flap and exposing slightly pink cheeks to my view. Laying my hand on them, I stated, “You’ve made your choice, Benjamin Andrew. You let me know when you’re ready to behave yourself, and I’ll stop spanking.”

Then, without further lecture, I did it. Ben typically didn’t need this, the opportunity to kick and wail until he’d managed to get all of his frustration out, but I wasn’t unfamiliar with the process. Cupping my hand, I hoped that a loud spanking would be sufficient for him. I could tell he was sore already, between the early swats and the fever.

Ben was a sweetheart, typically gentle and eager to please, but I had to remind myself that underestimating his stubbornness was a rookie mistake. He could hold out for a good long while, and he did.

Even with the cupped hand and already tenderized little backside, he made it through what seemed an interminable period of spanking before he began wailing that he was ready to behave.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I responded, tipping him forward and slapping down a few more times in order to make my point.

“I’M READY! I’LL BE GOOD NOW!”

“Okay,” I replied, stopping the spanking. “I just wanted to make sure that you were sure. You’re always good though, peanut. You’re just being kind of rotten right now.”

I helped him stand, keeping on hand gripped around his elbow as I snapped the pajamas back up and then lightly popped his bottom to get him moving.

He tried to climb into the crib, but I shook my head, snagging the bottle and Owlie and swatting him toward a chair.

“Stop hitting!” he objected.

“It’s not hitting,” I informed him, surprised at his response. “You know that, peanut. What is Daddy doing to your naughty bottom?”

“Being a jerk,” he retorted, surly.

I sat down in the rocker, pulling Ben between my knees and asking, “Do you need more spankings on that bottom? Because I can do that, but I wouldn’t want any more smacks if I was already that red and sore.” 

He stomped his foot, and I swatted, warning, “Don’t, Ben. Daddy’s not kidding.”

“Don’t, Ben. Daddy’s not kidding,” Ben mimicked.

Well, that was my answer. Apparently he wasn’t ready for the spanking to end. I had to move, keeping him in my grasp as I shifted. This time, I elected to prop my foot up on a lower shelf, lifting Ben up and over so his little feet dangled.

“STOP! PUT ME DOWN!”

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I think that you just showed me you weren’t ready to behave, so we’ll try this again.”

Grimly, I began, not bothering to cup this time. Ben needed to rest, and I was just about done with this behavior for the day. 

Smacking down hard, I was unsurprised by his responding howl. This time, I stopped spanking when he was hanging limply, sobbing. Although I’d never experienced it, I’d been told that this position felt pretty awful simply because you had so very little control. Ben was likely feeling very young and very sore, and that was right where it seemed he needed to be right now.

I helped him stand before letting my foot down, and then I led him back to the rocker, sitting down and pulling him onto my lap. It was a moment’s work to get him cradled enough that I could slip the bottle into his mouth, and I slowly began to rock, waiting for him to calm down enough that we could talk if he needed.

Ben’s POV

I sniffled in Daddy’s lap, drinking my water. I was sore and tired, and that was not fair at all. I told him as much when I stopped crying.

“‘s’not fair to spank when I feel icky,” I complained.

He nodded, smiling down at me, “You know how to avoid it, peanut. Daddy doesn’t like spanking you, hmm? Just behave.”

I pouted a little at that, and let his hand drift down to cup and pat at my still bare bottom, making me squirm.

“My boy,” he rocked. 

Before I could continue my objections, I heard footsteps on the stairs. First was Em. She was always easy to hear because she thumped like a bunny. Behind her though, those were slower feet. Those were big people feet. 

I had a bad feeling about those big people feet. Daddy’s feet on the steps normally make me happy because if I’m already upstairs, then it’s time for cuddling and reading stories. Those feet…I don’t know those feet, and I don’t think I want to. I knew I was right when I heard the voice at the doorway.

“Hey, sweetie,” Aunt Sarah greeted.

“You can go home,” I informed her, surly. “Don’t Mikey need you?”

She laughed at that, as Daddy lifted me up and popped me on my still bare butt, “Be polite, peanut.”

“Please, you can go home.”

Em snickered at that, from where she had settled on the side of the crib, and I shot her a look. I didn’t need an audience. 

“Em, go downstairs,” Daddy instructed. “Please.”

Aunt Sarah added, “Honey, could you maybe keep Michael occupied? Keep him out of the cookies for me, okay?”

“He couldn’t reach them,” Emily shrugged, even as she made her way to the door. “Daddy keeps cookies up high.”

“Smart Daddy,” Aunt Sarah commented.

Once Em was gone, I wished she’d come back. I didn’t like the look in Aunt Sarah’s eyes, and I wasn’t feeling so much like Daddy was going to protect me. My fears were realized when I felt myself swept up.

“Alright, peanut,” Daddy said softly. “Aunt Sarah’s going to give you a quick check, to see what’s going on.”

“No!”

“Yes,” he disagreed, carrying me to the crib and settling me down. “I think we already covered who was in charge right now, Ben, but we can do it again if you want to give Aunt Sarah a hard time. She’s trying to make you feel better.”

Sarah’s POV

Ben’s little face was about as surly as I’d ever seen it, but he lay back and crossed his arms over his chest, not arguing anymore.

“Okay, sweetheart,” I smiled at him, setting my bag down. “What feels bad?”

“My froat,” he replied. “‘cept that’s ‘cause Daddy made me cry lots. You should tell him to be nicer when ‘m sick.”

“Somebody got his little behind paddled twice,” Matt explained, grinning at me. “It turns out that Ben gets crabby when he’s sick.”

“Not crabby,” Ben retorted. “Just wanted to be left ‘lone.”

“You know that’s going to make taking his temp harder,” I gave Matt a look. 

He shrugged unapologetically, “Would have been lots harder if we were trying to use a speculum to remove broken glass.”

That seemed fair enough, so I focused back on Ben, asking, “What else, kiddo?”

“I maybe got a little cough,” he acknowledged. “And my head hurts. And my skin. And I’m sneezy. But that’s it. I’m fine.”

I nodded, stifling a smile. That was it. Nothing big. I was apparently about to deal with another patient who claimed everything was fine. Michael was the same way.

“We need to get a quick temp,” I explained to Ben, making eye contact with Matt. Together, we rolled Ben onto his stomach before he could object. “And look at this,” I commented. “Already all set for me.”

“No! NO!” Ben struggled.

“We might need him over your knee,” I told Matt calmly, keeping my hands firm on the backs of Ben’s thighs.

Matt nodded, hands on Ben’s shoulders. He knelt on the floor, eye level with Ben, and said quietly, “Ben? Did you hear Aunt Sarah? This is going to happen. Do you want to lie down on your tummy, or do you need to go over my knee to help you be still?”

“NO!”

“That’s not a choice right now,” Matt was patient. “We need to know if you have a fever.”

“You already checked,” Ben said frantically.

“Let’s get him over your lap,” I suggested. 

Matt obligingly sat on the bed, tugging Ben into place and then holding him still for me. He managed to get Ben’s outside leg tucked in such a way that the little boy opened up for me easily, and I pulled out my thermometer.

It was admittedly slightly larger than average, although it was still well within comfortable limits for where it was about to be settled. Matt was used to it, and I kept it from Ben’s eyeline so he couldn’t object further to the procedure. 

I wiped it quickly with an alcohol wipe, although I always cleaned it after use as well. Then, I lubricated it thoroughly with vaseline and spread Ben’s cheeks apart.

He was a pretty little thing. Not exactly my type. He was much too small and delicate. But he was pretty. Those red little cheeks made for an even better view, and I had to snap myself out of it. This was work. Not play. It was hard to remember when this seemed so much like a scene.

“Alright, Ben,” I narrated softly. “I’m going to just slide this in,” I said, suiting my actions to words. 

He wailed at the intrusion, and Matt patted his back, “You’re okay, sweetpea. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t like it,” Ben whimpered, tone accusatory.

I nodded, “I know, but this is the best way to get your temp. It would work better if your bottom wasn’t quite so hot, but it’s still better.”

“It’s big,” Ben complained, squirming a bit.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a bit bigger than the one Daddy has. This one works the best out of the thermometers I’ve found though, kiddo. Three more minutes.”

Matt’s POV

Ben squirmed and whined his way through the exam, allowing Sarah to do her job with ill grace. Luckily for us both, the temperature taking was the part he hated most.

“Okay, little Ben,” Sarah announced, having gone through the usual routine. “First, I think you’re going to be just fine in a few days. Flu’s going around.”

“I got my shot,” Ben complained. “Daddy made me. At the pharm’cy when we went to get his ‘scription filled.”

Sarah nodded, explaining, “The flu shot people screwed up this year, so they didn’t include the strain that everyone’s been getting. It’s no big deal. You need sleep and fluids and to listen to Daddy. Okay?”

Ben scowled, telling her, “You tell him to be nicer to me?” 

Even as he complained, he crawled up onto my lap and hugged me tightly. I squeezed him, rubbing his back. Poor baby was warm to the touch.

“He treats you just awful,” she commented, grinning widely.

Ben nodded, explaining, “He smacked and smacked my bottom, Aunt Sarah, and just ‘cause I was ‘spressing my opinion. And that’s not nice. We use our words.”

I managed to not laugh at his outrage, intervening, “You got a spanking for misbehaving, kiddo, and Aunt Sarah isn’t going to tell me not to spank you.”

“Daddy’s right, Ben,” Sarah informed him. “I spank my Mikey all the time.”

“Mean big people,” he groused.

Sarah focused on me, “Sleep. Fluids. OTC meds if he needs them. I’m going to prescribe a cough syrup for him in case that gets worse. I think everyone’s on it at this point.

I nodded, taking the offered prescription. I tried to set Ben down and cover him up, but he wouldn’t let me go, so I walked Sarah down the stairs with Ben attached to me like a curly haired, surly, barnacle. 

After gathering Mikey up from the playroom, where Em had kept him well entertained with blocks, Sarah left us. Ben was snuggled against me, and I swayed a little, hoping that he was going to be a little less crabby.

“Daddy has to make dinner, peanut,” I told him softly. 

Em was sitting on the floor still, packing away the wooden blocks, and she looked up at my pronouncement. I think she knew it wasn’t going to go well.

“Noooooo,” Ben whined.

“Do you want chicken soup?” I asked. “That sounds so yummy to me. With noodles?”

Ben nodded, coughing, and I said, “How about we get you snuggled up in the crib, and-”

“Noooooo.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“No crib,” he insisted. “Don’t wanna be all upstairs by my own self.”

“Honey, Aunt Sarah says you have to rest,” I reminded him.

He shook his head, “No. Wanna be with you and Em.”

It was a change from earlier, but I didn’t want to tell him no. Instead, I offered, “How about I put in a movie in here, and you can lay on the couch? I bet Em would like to watch one.”

Em was watching us with large eyes, not saying one way or the other, but Ben had definite ideas.

“Noooo. Wanna stay with you.”

“Daddy?” Em asked, waiting until I looked down at her. She suggested, “Ben could sit in the big chair? Then he could see you and have some juice? Aunt Sarah prob’ly said juice ‘cause she norm’ly does.”

“Noo-”

I put my finger to Ben’s lips, shaking my head, “Listen, peanut.” When I was sure he would be quiet, I listed out, “You can rest in your crib by yourself, you can watch a movie in here with Em, or you can sit in the big chair with Owlie and a book while I cook dinner. What’s it going to be?”

He grumbled for a minute before saying, “Big chair. But I want Seraphina to finish.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, grabbing the book from a nearby shelf. I didn’t expect him to be able to focus, but if that’s what it took, I’d give him the novel. “Em, baby girl, can you go and get Owlie for Ben?”

She nodded, racing off up the stairs and returning a moment later with the soft blanket from the crib and his stuffed Owl. 

I’d settled him in the big chair, and I gratefully accepted both items, happy that she’d thought of the blanket. I didn’t want him to get a chill.

“Water, orange juice, or cranberry?” I asked, not wanting to go through the chorus of nos that I was getting.

He wrinkled his nose, and Em suggested, “Daddy? We got grape too.”

“Or grape.”

He sighed heavily, dramatically, and I could have sworn that he was taking lessons from Emily.

“Grape,” he allowed, making it clear that this was a concession that he was only barely willing to agree to.

I filled a sippy cup with grape juice and ice, handing it over before I returned to making dinner. I’d already gotten started chopping vegetables before Sarah got there, since I knew I’d need celery and onion regardless, and I threw the beef stock back into the freezer from where I’d stored it in the fridge. It was a chicken soup night.

Just as I started to get back into what I was doing, my phone chirped, and I had to pull it out my pocket to check the text. It was from Sarah, which made me nervous. Had she realized there was something more going on with Ben?

Reading the text, I snorted, quickly responding before deleting it all and stuffing my phone back in my pocket. Sarah had apparently not wanted to say it in front of Ben or Emily, so she’d texted it.

“My thermometer is too big for Ben...it’s bigger than yours.”

I’d kept my response short, simply typing, “Mind. Gutter. You.” Before returning to what I was doing.

Ben’s POV

I was maybe a little bit tired, and my head felt funny, like I couldn’t focus. I didn’t want the crib though. Em was right; it was just a cage.

I wanted to read my book though. It was good. There were dragons in it, and intrigue. And I was only on the second chapter, but I liked it.

Em sidled up beside me, offering, “I could read to you?”

I wanted to shoo her away. This whole thing was her fault. She was the one who wouldn’t stop bugging me so Daddy had to break it up, and that’s what made him think I was sick and needed Aunt Sarah. 

She was offering to help though. I’d prefer Daddy do it. He has the perfect voice for reading stories, not too fast or too slow, and he explained things if you asked. Em was okay, but she tended to get too involved in her own head, and then she would sometimes need a poke to remind her that she was supposed to telling you the story.

“Okay,” I agreed, giving her the book.

“Em, not in the chair,” Daddy stopped what he was doing, looking at both of us. “I don’t want you getting too close.”

“I already been close,” Em argued. “If he’s gonna make me sick, he already done it, but we probably both already got it from Mikey or Lucy anyway.”

Daddy rolled his eyes, but he didn’t bother to argue, and Em squirmed her way onto the chair beside me, opening the book up and beginning to read.

Em’s POV

My Ben only made it a very few minutes before he fell asleep, and I was a little sad. This was a pretty good book, and now I was all curious. 

“Don’t,” Daddy cautioned, plucking it from my hands.

“I’ll just read it in my head,” I explained, trying to grab it back.

He shook his head, “No,” he disagreed. “You’ll just leave it alone. Otherwise, he’ll want to read it at the same time, and you’ll be in different parts, and I’ll end up having to break up a fight.”

That wasn’t the way it normally went. Ben was a good sharer. He pretty much gave me whatever I wanted. It worked out well.

“He’s sick, Em,” Daddy squatted in front of me. “Please, just don’t.”

Sighing heavily, I let it go, planning to sneak the book when Daddy wasn’t looking. I would give it back to Ben if he really wanted it, but I wanted to know more about Orma and what happened to Seraphina. It was a really good book.

Matt’s POV

“Em, baby, how about you help me?” I suggested. I wanted Ben to rest, and Em wasn’t exactly restful. 

“Can we make the crackers he likes?” she suggested, stealthily getting up from her spot. “You know, the fake saltines?”

I smiled at her, suggesting, “Get out the flour, and we’ll throw together a batch. Are you okay with soup for dinner? I figured I’d make sandwiches to go with it for us.”

“Is it Nana’s soup?” Em asked. 

“Yeah, baby,” I responded. “Do we ever make any other kind?”

“We tried the other one,” Emily told me. “Remember? You saw it on a cooking show. That was disgusting; it was not nearly as good as Nana’s.”

Emily loved my grandmother. She got along well with my entire family, but she adored Nana Vi. She was, admittedly, very cool, for a lady in her 80s, and she’d really taken Emily under her wing. 

My mother said that her mother had always been like that, bringing home random strangers when she thought they needed anything from a hot meal to someone to listen, and Emily was no exception. She had taught my wife how to knit and cook, and they talked on the phone at least a few times a month.

“Nana’s is the best soup, and even trying another recipe is a horrible idea,” Emily informed me.

“Okay,” I agreed, knowing she was right. “So we’ll make soup and crackers for Ben, and we’ll have soup and sandwiches.”

We worked together in companionable silence, and it was a nice change. I loved Ben, and I loved that he was ours, but it was nice to have one on one time with Emily too. 

Ben slept for a solid two hours, waking up with a whine. He began crabbing immediately, “I’m too hot,” he whined, trying to unwind from his blanket.

“Okay, peanut,” I said, walking around the island quickly. He seemed wobbly, and I was a little worried about him falling. “Let Daddy help.”

“I can do it,” he insisted.

“You can let me help,” I informed him.

He complained about that, but he did hold still long enough for me to unwrap the blanket and help him sit again.

“Let’s get you some water,” I suggested. “I think that’ll help; some ice water. And we need to take your temp again, sweetpea. Do you want to go upstairs to do that?”

“No,” he told me.

I shook my head, “No, Benjamin. We are going to. I don’t want to have to fight with you about this every time.”

“Daddy,” Emily interrupted, handing over a sippy cup full of ice water. “Is he real hot?”

“He’s fine, baby,” I soothed.

“Just wanna be left alone,” Ben crabbed.

It was going to be a long night, and I swooped him up onto my hip, saying, “We’re going upstairs, Em. I’ll be back in a minute. Can you watch the food?”

Ben’s POV

Daddy didn’t ever Benjamin me. Em’ly sometimes got called Em’ly Anne if’n she was bein’ real sassy, but Daddy mostly just called me peanut or sweetpea or sometimes Ben. I didn’t like Benjamin.

“I don’t want to,” I cried, hiding my face in his neck. “I hate that thermometer. It’s a stupid baby thermometer.”

“It isn’t,” he disagreed. “It’s the same thermometer I use on Em, and she’s a big girl. It’s the thermometer Aunt Sarah says to use, and she’s really smart about helping sick little boys and girls.”

“I’m not a baby,” I told him.

“You’re my little baby,” he said. “My sweet, tiny, most adorable, little baby boy.”

That was actually kind of nice, but I still didn’t like getting my temperature taken. Not like that. It was...I didn’t like it.

“Daddy, why can’t we use an ear thermometer?” I asked, when he laid me down in the crib, on my belly.

“Because they’re not as accurate,” he explained calmly, unbuttoning my pajamas and exposing me to the room. 

I whined and squirmed, crabbing a bit more as he spread my cheeks apart. It was embarrassing. I know that Daddy sees me like that. He gives me baths, and we have sex, but this is different.

Daddy patted the back of my thigh, sliding the thermometer into me and soothing, “I know, peanut; it’s okay.”

“Dadddyyy,” I whined. “Be done now.”

“Just a minute,” he promised.

It wasn’t just a minute. It was forever and a day before he finally took the thermometer out to read the temperature. He got me covered up before he said anything though.

“Okay, peanut, I think it’s time for some medicine,” he told me.

“No thank you,” I said.

“Would you like to stay up here while I run to the pharmacy, or would you like to go downstairs with Emily?” he offered.

I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t falling for it. I didn’t like his tricky, ‘Offer Ben Two’ Strategy. Not today.

“I would like to go to the pharmacy,” I informed him.

Daddy sighed, “Ben, honey, it’s gross out. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t wanna stay here,” I whined. “I wanna go too.”

Matt’s POV

I didn’t feel like arguing, and so I said, “You can come with me, but you have to wait in the car, peanut. I’m not getting you out of the car to go in.”

“I wanna go in,” he insisted.

“You can stay here or you can come with me, but you have to sit in the car. Take it or leave it,” I offered.

“Daaaddyyyyy,” Ben whined

“Take it or leave it, peanut,” I said firmly.

Ben was pouty, but he held his arms out and ordered, “Carry.”

I picked him up only to be told, “And Owlie too. And my blanket.”

“Okay,” I agreed, grabbing the requested items. I handed Ben the stuffed owl and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. 

If I got him into the car wrapped up like this, we could go. From the house to the garage I didn’t have to worry about the icy rain, and then he’d just stay in the car at the pharmacy. Those pajamas were insurance; there was no way he’d go out in public in one piece footy pajamas.

“Em,” I announced, cradling Ben as I walked into the kitchen, “we need to run to Walgreens. Are you okay staying here by yourself?”

“Bring me back chocolate?” she asked with a smile. At my nod, she reached up to kiss me before kissing Ben’s forehead. “I’ll be fine. Peanut butter cups, Daddy.”

“Peanut butter cups,” I agreed, before carrying Ben out to the car and getting him settled. We’d just go and get the prescription filled, and then we’d be set.


End file.
